


Just a Spark

by Ineednoroses



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Discrimination, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mages, OT3, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineednoroses/pseuds/Ineednoroses
Summary: In an alternative universe, set in a different world, Sicheng is running from his past when he finds his future. Captured in a foreign land he struggles to regain freedom.





	Just a Spark

**Author's Note:**

> If there are obvious spelling mistakes feel free to point them out, but ultimately I'm just having fun and am not looking for serious criticism. Please comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed, they fill my empty heart!

Dyed strands of ashy blonde hair fell into his eyes as he tried to walk down the busy street whist remaining as inconspicuous as possible, an almost impossible feat with the layer of dirt on his skin. People looked on him with either scorn or pity as he passed, some seeing the dregs of society in him, others seeing their sons or brothers in him. Sicheng couldn’t remember how long he had been living on the streets of Amyther, but anything had to be better than before. He had freedom, even though the price had been high and luxury traded for it. It had been worth the trade but not the bloodshed.

Eventually he found himself huddled next to a bin, out of sight of the average passer-by, huddling for warmth. With another furtive glance around him Sicheng clicked his fingers together to create a small flame to warm his shivering body. Eventually the flame died and he couldn’t summon enough bravery to summon fore to him again, not when the risk was too high. After a while his exhaustion took over and he fell into a fitful sleep, always light as someone such as he never knew that he would not be attacked, even ordinary homeless people are vulnerable.

When he awoke it was with the painful reminder of his bitter reality, yet slowly and surely, he began to get up initially stumbling around like a baby deer, still groggy from a restless sleep. Sicheng had grown up surrounded by luxury, reverently handled by many servants dedicated o his well-being. His new life was a complete shock to his system. As night rose however, he would need to find better shelter, the cold could kill. This he knew now, learnt as many things in his recent life, the hard way.

Sicheng moved quietly from the alley, glancing furtively around himself as he did, hand firmly planted on the small knife he kept in his sleeve, better to defend himself with steel than flame, lest he be found out. Life was not kind to his people. He had seen the way mages were treated at his own home, little more than slaves, forced to work for the powerful, to use their power for whatever their ‘masters’ saw fit. In this new land at least he had some rights, although he was still treated to immense suspicion due to his accent and limited understanding of Amytherian, his own native land of Sappho provided little education on the outside world, but he had been able to find old books hidden away in their large family library that detailed some of the basics of the culture in his new home. Not that it made a difference, he was unable to find work, but homelessness was much preferable to death or slavery.

Caught up in his thoughts as he moved quietly on the empty streets, hoping to find an abandoned building to take shelter, he did not immediately notice someone following him close behind. When he noticed the sound of quiet footfalls his pulse sped up, panic turning his veins to ice, his thoughts full of the fear that he had been found. Sicheng sped up, taking a breath, as there was only a slim chance he had been found, no one knew him in this land. However, as he increased his pace the footsteps behind him also increased slowly gaining on him, adrenaline flowed through him and Sicheng ran as fast as he could, although he was slow from exhaustion and malnutrition. Eventually just as he felt his chest burn from the exertion the footsteps caught up and he felt calloused fingertips close around his slender wrist.

The grasp of the stranger pulled him off his feet, causing him to land heavily on his behind, jarring him, then the stranger pulled him back to his feet only to slam him against a nearby rain slick doorway. Although initially weak from the shock he felt himself quickly recover as he kneed the stranger in his groin, an effective move judging by the way the figure doubled over. Sicheng found himself unable to make out a face as the figure seemed to be wearing a mask. The man recovered quickly from Sicheng’s quick kick and aged Sicheng back again against the wall. As the rain soaked into Sicheng’s thin hoodie the man spoke and from what Sicheng could understand “money”, “now” and “little shit” this was a simple mugging.

Strange as it was, Sicheng’s being with relief, as he came to the realisation that the man had no idea who or what he is. Sicheng let out a hysterical giggle at the man’s stupidity, who the hell tries to rob a fucking homeless kid, what money is he going to have? Honestly.

The man seemed to be visibly startled for a moment before anger lit up what he could see of his eyes at being laughed at, and the grip on Sicheng’s wrists increased. In broken Amytherian he spoke “No money”. The man growled in response and moved one hand to try and rummage in his hoodie pocket whilst one held his hands above his head. Sicheng found himself unable to break the man’s grip, he was too weak. Then the shadowed man came closer and whispered in his ear, Sicheng found himself unable to understand most of what the man was saying, but the lecherous look on his face was unmistakable. Afraid, Sicheng decided to take a risk, he gradually started to increase the temperature of his hands until it would have felt to the man as if he was being stabbed by a white-hot poker. With a yell, the man released his hands, finally free he grabbed with one hand his knife and held it out at the man, unmistakeable with the threat he was expressing, with the other hand he created a flame, willing to risk it all in this moment. He slowly walked backwards from the man, who was cowering in fear, not letting his eyes leave the man for a second.

Unexpectedly, just as Sicheng felt he was finally free, he felt a prick in his neck, and as everything went black, he was overwhelmed by fear.


End file.
